“Good luck.” Devlin walked to his SUV. I waved goodbye as he backed out of the driveway.
I pulled back my shoulders, readying for today’s challenge. Remember when I mentioned I was a type-A perfectionist? My drive to be praised and to do my best was a fire I started, but my father happily fanned the flames. Nothing seemed to please him, but that was another story.
I went into my field because I genuinely wanted to help people. Cade had given up on himself and his future, and my walking away from him would almost guarantee he’d never leave his bedroom. And I guessed a future playing video games and grunting every so often wasn’t what he wanted.
Lately, though, I didn’t feel like I was helping at all. We’d pretty much retreated to separate corners over the last month.
But he’s outside. That was major progress.
“Good afternoon!” I chirped. The wrench sound ceased for a second before starting up again. “Are we doing your session in the garage today? The change of scenery is nice.”
No comment from my captive audience. I sighed.
Most of the time I felt like I was failing miserably, but I continued to show up and try, try again. The money was a nice bonus, but that wasn’t why I showed up. At first, I told myself it was a favor for Paul, and then later I told myself it was my own never-say-die attitude, but there was only one real reason I continued to put myself through so much rejection.
I did it for Cade.
We were running out of time. Soon I wouldn’t ask myself if I should or shouldn’t bother showing up. I would graduate, pass the state board exam, and land a full-time position. I wouldn’t have time to come here and listen to myself talk.
I kicked Cade’s shoe like Devlin had, backing up quickly when Cade rolled out from under the car on one of those low wheeled carts mechanics use. His golden-brown eyes locked on mine.
He was a royal pain in the ass, but somehow still the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen. I’d thought so since I first laid eyes on him at Ridgeway University. Despite our mutual dislike, my appreciation of his fine-tuned biceps, the tattoos cascading down one arm, and his firm, wide shoulders hadn’t gone anywhere.
He stood and snatched an orange rag to wipe his hands and continued scowling at me. I think. I was no longer looking at his face. My attention was consumed with thick, rounded biceps and strong shoulders, visible thanks to a well-worn T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
“This is new.” I gestured to our surroundings. “I thought you’d turned into a vampire. I rarely see you in the daylight.”
He grunted as he bent and put his tools away. His typical response. I tried not to admire the way his faded jeans hugged his backside and failed. Cade had a nice ass.
When he stood, I averted my eyes from his well-built physique to his short, shaggy mass of sandy-brown hair. Unbidden, my heart stuttered in my chest.
Every inch of him was hot. From a pair of mid-length sideburns to the holes in his ears where the piercings had closed after he stopped wearing the studs. Tattoos snaked up his left arm, intricate designs, some colored, some not. An array of animals and symbols, metaphors for what I had never found out. Not that I asked. There were lines we didn’t cross, and his tattoos were one of them.
If he smiled a dimple dented one cheek, and if he really smiled, he revealed straight white teeth. Not too white—he wasn’t battling a coffee addiction with Crest Whitestrips like I was.
In the case of my wayward attraction to Cade, I blamed my ex-boyfriend, Tony. If Tony hadn’t been such a dickhead, we would be looking for an apartment together and planning our engagement. He majored in sports medicine, I in physical therapy. We had similar upbringings. Similar goals. Similar interests. Well, save one. Tony Fry was interested in sleeping with multiple women without the others knowing, whereas I was more the monogamous type.
That was where our paths had ultimately veered.
Cade crooked a finger, motioning for me to come to him. There was something playful in his eyes crowding out the anger. Maybe that’s why I did as he asked and took one cautious step toward him, and then another.
The smell of motor oil mingled with a piney fragrance that could be soap or deodorant gave him an earthy yet dangerous quality. Plus, he looked damn good with oil smeared on his shirt and across one cheek.
His eyes darted to my lips, and back up, and then…
I was looking at his back as he walked away from me. Not into the house via the entrance from the garage, but through a door on the left. A door that opened to a flight of stairs. He tipped his head for me to follow.
I took the stairs behind him, stunned at what I found at the top. “Whoa.”
The Wilson house was large, with a three-car attached garage. I’d always assumed that behind the windows over said garage was storage space. Maybe that’s what this used to be, but now it was a functioning apartment. Not as big as mine, but much bigger than the bedroom Cade formerly occupied.
His bed stood in one corner, the mattress bare. On the far wall was a kitchenette outfitted with a sink, microwave, and refrigerator. Cardboard boxes were stacked along every wall including the one that opened to the bathroom.
“Nice place,” I said, my footfalls causing a faint echo. Other than the bed, dresser and love seat, there wasn’t much in here. “Quite an improvement from sleeping across the hall from your father.”
I heard the soft exhale of breath as Cade brushed by me. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out an orange juice carton, and took a few slugs.
Fingers tightening around the strap of my backpack, I tried not to stare at his throat, or the trickle of sweat that ran down the side of his neck. From there my gaze flickered over one muscular shoulder and got lost in the maze of ink swirling over his flesh.
All the while I reminded myself that I didn’t find sweaty guys dashed with motor oil attractive.
Parts of me listened. Other parts of me did not.
Cade Wilson didn’t look like a guy who would one day be a lawyer. And again, so not my type. I liked boys in khakis. Oxford shirts did it for me. Well-groomed, well-spoken. Those were qualities I didn’t only admire, I required.
My response to Cade was off the grid. He awakened some deep, dark carnal part of me. Which was my only excuse as to why I was now inexplicably attracted to his shaggy, messy, never-styled hair. And why I was drawn to the patterns of ink on his body. I didn’t think I was the only one who felt that way. I had noticed his golden stare, when he thought I wasn’t looking, that held a combination of spite and curiosity.
We had a history. It wasn’t a good one.
“You’ve gained muscle,” I said. It wasn’t a flirty comment, more a professional observation. Improving bodies was my job. Noticing his went with the territory. His sprained wrist had hampered his weightlifting until it healed, but he’d more than regained the muscle he’d lost.
He licked a droplet of juice off his bottom lip. I dropped my backpack on the love seat, unfazed by the sensual slide of his tongue or his attitude.
Mostly.
“Now that I’m here and you’re here, why don’t we do actual therapy today instead of you ignoring me and me doing my homework?”
His bland gaze said what he didn’t: Hard pass.
If only he’d give in and cooperate. I could have my own moment of personal triumph, and he could go from stoic, silent statue to proper chatterbox.